


The Hardest Decision

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Protective Big Brother Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: TFP AU. What if Mycroft was in the well rather than John?





	The Hardest Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Sherlock looked down at the gun in his hand, then between John and Mycroft.

"Shoot him," Mycroft snapped. That brought his attention away from the gun and to Mycroft instead.

Sherlock stared at his brother as he continued to ramble on. "Please. For gods sake. Just, stop it." He hadn't stopped putting John down and he hated himself for not believing it.

"Why?"

The detective closed his eyes, "Because on balance even your Lady Bracknell was better."

Beside the government official, John appeared to be in shock, glancing between the Holmeses. "What?"

"Ignore everything he just said. He's being kind. He's trying to make it easier for me to kill him."

The fact that Mycroft would sacrifice himself, let alone believed John meant more to him came as a bit of a shock and made himself feel immensely guilty. Everything he'd put his brother through over the years... all he had tried to do was save him with his interfering.

"It's alright, Sherlock," John said softly. "I know."

The detective glanced at the doctor. "John, I can't shoot you." Even as he spoke, he lifted his gun in John's direction. He stopped himself looking at his older brother. He didn't want to know what look was on his face.

"You can," the blond insisted, nodding. "You need to survive. So does he." He jerked his head at Mycroft. "Just look after Rosie. Please."

"She's your daughter!" he snapped. John should be the one to look after her. He'd raise her right.

"I know. And I love her. But I'd rather she lose me than a plane crashing into central London." He meant it far too much, but that was what you did for kids.

"John, there's no guarantee it will hit your house-"

"I don't want to find out!" He hissed. "Look after her. For me. Raise her as I would, with Mrs. Hudson and Molly."

"John, she doesn't even-"

"She does know you. I used to talk about you all the time. Even when..." He cleared his throat. "You're her godfather Sherlock, you are duty bound to look after her should her parents not be able to."

The detective was biting his bottom lip as Eurus was chattering in the background, only Mycroft seemed to be paying her any attention, but he didn't give her the satisfaction of a response. The youngest Holmes seemed frustrated at something but Sherlock didn't care what at.

"But, there's Molly... she could do a far better job than-"

"No, she couldn't. Now please, Sherlock. You are making this much harder on yourself."

"I don't give a fuck about that! I care about you." Sherlock had open tears now, but wasn't trying to hide them when he looked towards Mycroft.

John followed his gaze, "He's your brother, Sherlock. He's an interfering prat, but it's all been for you and he's done a bloody good job of keeping you safe. Let him carry on. Please. For me."

The blond could clearly tell Sherlock still wasn't convinced and he needed the decision taken out of his control. "If you kill your brother I will never speak to you again. And if you come anywhere near me, I have my own gun."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "What-"

"Do it!" John snapped. "Now!"

Sherlock raised the gun, pointing it at the shorter man, his arm far straighter than it had been before. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

"Goodbye, Sherlock."

"Sherlock, no," Mycroft stepped forward, finally finding his voice. He couldn't let Sherlock shoot John Watson. John kept him safe, kept him a functioning member of society. "You can't do this."

The younger brother stared at Mycroft for a moment. "5 minutes," he said.

"What?"

"It took her 5 minutes. To do all of this to us." He closed his eyes, thinking for a split second. "I say no."

He moved the gun to face himself, beneath his chin. He winked at John, far easier to kill himself than either his brother or his best friend.

John glanced at the older Holmes, but didn't speak, it seemed he was as confused by the change in situation as he was himself.

***

"Are you there yet?" Sherlock asked almost to thin air.

The little girl had gone again and it was a surprise when his brother answered. "Yes, little brother, I'm here."

"Mycroft!" The detective sighed in relief. He had half believed Eurus would kill Mycroft anyway. Only two were 'needed' after all, so it wasn't that much of a leap. "Where are you?" He glanced around. It wasn't beyond reason that he wasn't nearby.

"I don’t know, apart from somewhere wet. I’ve just woken up. Where are you?" He threw the question back at his little brother as his head fell back and thudded the wall, a stone wall, with the light so far above him and the water he was sat in, he realised where he was.

Sherlock glanced around at the surrounding walls. "I'm in another cell." Beyond that, he honestly had no idea where he was. His sister had that power over him and he didn't like it one iota. "I've just spoken to the girl on the plane again. We’ve been out for hours."

"Hours? And she's still up there?" Mycroft closed his eyes and groaned trying to think. All he could focus on was how cold the water was.

"The plane will keep flying until it runs out of fuel," the younger man couldn't help but point out the obvious.

"I know, brother-mine. But how much fuel has it got left? There can't be much." It had already been in their air too long.

"Rosie."

"She'll be fine, little brother. Focus." He was more interested in working out who this little girl was and why everyone on the plane were dead, but not her.

"Is John with you?" Sherlock asked. The doctor had to be somewhere... unless Eurus had killed him like she was going to... he'd been trying to stop it, killing himself instead. John or Mycroft, John or Mycroft-

Mycroft had already searched as far as he could see and reach. "No, I don't think so. I'm sorry, little brother."

The detective sighed and ran his hand over his face as if that would clear the headache that was fast returning from earlier.

"Are you ok?"

Mycroft was rather surprised by the question, but seeing as Sherlock had chosen him over John for some inane reason, he shouldn't have been. Underestimating his baby brother again.

"Of course. I'm still alive."

Sherlock closed his eyes at the unasked question. "Now isn't the time, brother-mine."

"I know."

"Have you worked out where you are yet?"

As he thudded his head back against the wall yet again, he groaned, "Yes. But I didn't want to say."

"Stop being difficult, Mycroft."

"I'm in a well."

"A well?"

"Yes, a well."

Sherlock paced the table he had walked around on, squinting at the pictures all over the walls.

"You know what that means, little brother?"

"Of course I do. You can't be on Sherrinford anymore."

"And if I'm not on Sherrinford. Neither are you."

"What's important about that well? She didn't just dump you in it for no reason."

Mycroft felt around under the water as his hand settled on something. Lots of somethings.

"Mycroft, Redbeard's bowl's here."

The government official closed his eyes, wiping away a lone tear. The truth wouldn't be hidden from Sherlock much longer.

"Ignore it, little brother, she's playing games." He would find out, but he needed to be safe when he did. He needed to be with Sherlock. He honestly didn't know what the truth would do to him. "Focus on where you are." He had to change the subject, at least for a moment.

Sherlock watched the pictures again noticing them shift slightly. "There's a draft."

With a smirk, he responded, "Fake cell, Sherlock, do keep up."

The younger brother matched the unseen look on Mycroft's face as he raised his foot and kicked out at the 'wall'. It fell back immediately, but as if in slow motion, as did the other three.

"Fake cell," he agreed.

"Where are you?" Mycroft asked again.

"Home. Musgrave Hall."

Mycroft could have burst into tears at what he held beneath the water. The something he held; the lots of somethings. It was definitely not going to be a secret at the end of this trip. The bowl wasn't enough to suggest anything, but what he held was.

As he tried to climb up, he realised his feet were chained to the floor... well that was why 'Redbeard' didn't just climb out.

"Sherlock, I don't want to hurry you, but I'm chained up. And water is coming in."

"What do I do? Find the well?"

"There's no point. You won't stop it. Play the game."

"What?"

"Our little sister's game. Play it." _But please don't hate me when it's over_ went unsaid.

***

Several hours later, Sherlock and Mycroft were sat together on the edge of an ambulance, watching as their sister was crowded towards the police van. She looked more crazy than ever and Mycroft hadn't brought himself to say goodbye to her.

"I didn't save her, did I? I cant't take her home."

"Sherrinford is her home." His thoughts drifted to Victor. He didn't hate his brother because of it. Far from it. He missed not remembering. At least John was ok.

"It's not good enough, Mycroft. And you know it."

For some absurd reason he actually put his arm around the detective without either of them flinching away. They'd been given the news of John and Rosie. They were both fine. That gave the pair of them a while to come to terms with the day from hell.

"You know, today, what Eurus did to us... lab rats. I did it to John. All those years ago. I did it to him in Baskerville."

"Lock-"

"Don't try and make me feel better, brother dear. I did it, and I laughed while I did."

Mycroft got to his feet and stood in front of Sherlock. He gripped him either side of his face. "You are nothing like Eurus."

"I killed a man. Official pardon or not, I killed a man. That won't ever change."

"You did it out of love, Eurus does it out of a lack of it."

"And what will John say to that?"

Mycroft sighed. "Go to him."

Sherlock scowled. "What?" He hadn't been expecting that.

"Go to John," the government official repeated.

"What about Mummy?"

"Go," was all Mycroft said further. He'd deal with their parents... well he'd delay telling them until Sherlock came back. John was more important right now.

***

"John. I'm so, so sorry." The detective had waited on the helicopter landing pad for John as he came back from Sherrinford. It had been the most terrifying few hours of his life in that cell.

"Shh," the doctor whispered, wrapping his hand around the back of Sherlock's neck.

"He's a prat... but he's my brother, I couldn't-"

"Shh," John whispered again, bringing Sherlock in for a hug. He brought the taller man's head down to his shoulder.

"Mycroft wanted me to-"

The blond held him to his shoulder tighter, to block off anything else the younger man was going to say.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in one another's hold, peaceful. Content.

On sight of the approaching black sedan, John stepped back, releasing the detective. He held his hand out and wasn't as surprised that Sherlock took it as he should have been.

"Lets go home."

Sherlock watched the older man for a moment. He must mean Baker Street. He smiled.

"Yes. Home."


End file.
